


A Little Luck Goes A Long Ways

by PolarGrizz47



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood, Fight Club - Freeform, Fights, Happy Ending, M/M, Poisoning, accidental murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 12:49:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17643149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/pseuds/PolarGrizz47
Summary: "Oi, relax. I'm not 'ere to rough ya up, I'm 'ere to ‘elp," He held up his hands in mock surrender and Dwight instantly nodded in recognition. Slowly the familiar stranger offered his hand as he walked closer, "I'm David."Still moderately safe behind the counter, Dwight awkwardly shook the other man's larger, bandaged hand, making sure not to squeeze too hard and agitate the obvious wounds on his knuckles. "I'm Dwight... you uh..." He paused, mind wracking for a question before he blurted, "Fight here?"





	A Little Luck Goes A Long Ways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notthebasement](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebasement/gifts).



> A request that I picked apart and reassembled like a jigsaw puzzle. Unbeta'ed! *blows kisses*

Ace had helped him get the job. Their awkward friendship had finally came in handy, and Dwight found himself standing behind a bar while a large, towering man instructed him on where everything was, including the recipe sheet for each drink that was kept together on a metal ring, right by the sink, stored safely in the laminated but still stained paper.

He took note of everything quickly, making sure to memorize what some alcohols were off the bat. The shelf behind the bar was taller than Dwight was, filled with bottles of various liquids, clear and amber and even some brightly colored blue drinks. The scent of alcohol was thick in the air, as was smoke, which emanated from downstairs in the basement. Strangely, the upper bar was mainly empty. Clearly, the main show was happening in the basement.

A few gambling machines blinked happily at him upstairs, and a handful of people were testing their luck on the slots. He filled their drink orders as quickly as he could, clearly flustered, and it wasn't even busy yet. They were kind enough towards him, older folks with nice words about his outfit and well-wishing while they tipped him a few dollars.

Suddenly, there was an uproarious yelling and cheering happening downstairs, startling Dwight as he busied himself with cleaning a glass cup. He nearly dropped the thing at the sound and jumped slightly when a familiar voice cooed next to him.

"How's your first night on the shift, kid? You're lookin' _nervous_ ," Ace leaned closer, flashing his trademark grin. "Gimme a climax, kid. I'll go easy on you this time," He winked while resting an elbow on the bartop counter.

The younger man blinked at him, surprised while his cheeks faintly warmed up. "A what?"

"A climax," He winked, reaching a hand over to poke at the recipe sheet. "Third page, this'll warm you up for the big rush about to come up, sweetcheeks," Ace glanced towards the staircase and whistled. "They're havin' a lot of fun down there tonight."

Dwight grabbed the glass and the amaretto while glancing suspiciously towards the basement. Praise and dismayed arguing was still echoing down there, making the younger man shoot Ace a questioning look, one brow raised in mild concern.

The swindler shrugged a shoulder, "Fight night. Gonna happen regularly."

"Fight night?" Dwight blinked, fumbling with the alcohol and pouring a little bit too much into the cup. He gulped and hurried to find the rest of the banana flavored mixture, giving it a shake to stir it up while whispering, "What do you mean - are they - ?"

"Throwing hands? Goin' for blood? Yep, usual fight night," Ace watched him with a wicked little grin. "But they tip great. And nobody ought to mess with ya, long as you don't go snooping and causing a fuss," He twisted the toothpick in his mouth, grinding it against his teeth with skill. Dwight wondered when he grabbed the wooden splinter, having been so engrossed by the mysterious downstairs.

Ace picked up his drink with a grin and a made his way towards the slots, greeting an older man on the back with a loud laugh and a series of filthy words. Dwight sagged back into the little stool that was kept behind the counter, fiddling with the edges of his vest. The owner had requested that he wore something sharp, so his formal vest and nicest black button up fit the gig.

Rubbing at his eyes carefully under his lenses, he began to wonder just what the hell he'd gotten himself roped into. He looked up sharply as voices got louder, clearer, and a group of men - some bloodied - thudded their way up the stairs.

A few of them gave him odd looks before waving off their friends and headed out for a smoke or a piss and Dwight stood attentively behind the counter, waiting for his first order. Internally, he hoped that the tips were at least good.

They better be good, for the risk of getting arrested thanks to underground fight rings.

A shiver crawled up his spine at the thought of getting something on his perfectly clean record, but the thought scattered away wildly as a man slammed a bloodied, wrapped hand onto the table with a laugh, his eyes on the other man beside him. "Gimme a pint, will ya, mate?" He asked, accent thick and his amusement seeping into his tone.

Dwight nodded quickly, keeping his eyes on the other man's features. Even in a torn, bloodied black top, he looked good. Hair was slightly thrown out of style and his cheek had a purpling bruise, but his eyes were sharp and dark while his nose was broken and crooked. He looked just like a fighter and looked even more like he was enjoying every second of it.

"A pint," Dwight parroted in agreement, nodding quickly as he glanced down to the recipe list. He dragged his thumb at the top of the page down and paused when he didn't see anything about a pint. His nose scrunched slightly in confusion and embarrassment and he blinked at the recipe list one more time, trying to figure it out on his own.

Finally, the man gave a hum, leaning back some with both hands now firmly planted on the countertop. "Oi, you're the 'ew guy, eh? Pint's my brew, just the tap -- third from the left," He pointed with a stubby finger. "Don't'cha worry, mate, I'm 'asy."

With cup in hand, Dwight hurriedly spun around the tap, counting them out from the left before he slowly filled the glass. He didn't go to the bar often, but he could distinctly remember other people filling the glass slowly from the side to reduce bubbles. Pleased of himself, Dwight gently set the beer on the counter, trying to keep a straight face at the pungent smell of malt.

"Thanks, mate," The stranger grinned, slapping down a five and waving Dwight off, "Keep the change."

With that, he vanished into the crowd of laughter and shouts and Dwight was swarmed with other orders almost instantly.

-:-

He'd survived the first night, counting through his tip money slowly from behind the bar once he got the till settled. It was his job to lock up and mop up, and a quick glance at the clock told him that it was time to get started on his nightly duties.

As he set aside his tip money - a hefty 246$ - he paused when he noticed somebody leaning against the door, a dark baseball cap pulled low over his features. He froze, terror spiking in his heart for a moment until the man lifted his face and grinned.

"Oi, relax. I'm not 'ere to rough ya up, I'm 'ere to ‘elp," He held up his hands in mock surrender and Dwight instantly nodded in recognition. Slowly the familiar stranger offered his hand as he walked closer, "I'm David."

Still moderately safe behind the counter, Dwight awkwardly shook the other man's larger, bandaged hand, making sure not to squeeze too hard and agitate the obvious wounds on his knuckles. "I'm Dwight... you uh..." He paused, mind wracking for a question before he blurted, "Fight here?"

David chuckled, lifting his chin to get a good look at Dwight. "Yeah, I do. One of the best if ya ask the rest, ain't no one that can take me down," He grinned and then moved to the nearest high table before effortlessly grabbing the stools and setting them on top one by one. "I'll get the chairs outta yer way, so ya can mop the place up."

Still a bit on edge and unnerved at the idea of leaving the bar, Dwight slowly filled up the mop bucket near the sink and watched David carefully. He moved with purpose and without hesitation, his biceps bulging freely and his skin shinned with just a hint of sweat. Shifting silently, Dwight averted his gaze to find the mop and paused when he heard David begin to whistle cheerfully while he worked.

Oddly, it put him at ease, and Dwight slowly crept from the back of the bar, pushing the water bucket with one foot and carrying the mop with the other. As he began to clean, David helped him wipe off the slot machines and the chairs. For a long while, they worked freely, and Dwight felt himself relax fully, trusting more that David wasn't about to gut him and rob him blind after a rough night's work.

However, his tranquility was shattered when David's voice lowly rumbled, "Oi, can I 'elp ya, mate?"

Dwight's attention snapped towards the door and he stared openly at the man who stood in the bar's doorway. He must've forgotten to lock the door. Gulping, he took a step back and slowly wiped the mop in front of him, watching as David squared his shoulders and lengthened his stance. The man licked his lips, shrugged and laughed, "Not open?"

"Closed," David answered flatly, clenching his hands into fists. Thankfully, the stranger sniffed and wiped at his lips before nodding and stalking off across the street, the bar door swinging closed behind him.

Dwight released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thank you," He said, honest and open.

David shrugged and glanced back at him with a grin, "S'what I'm 'ere for."

-:-

Every night, without fail, David stayed with him to close shop. Dwight made sure to lock the door and play some music while they worked, casually chatting as they cleaned. He found out that David was smart, really smart, but had lost his scholarship years ago thanks to his temperament and aggressive tendencies. He'd been left drifting about until he found the fight club to make a few extra hundred dollars a month. His usual job was nine to five working security at a bank, which he found to be dreadfully dull.

Dwight himself didn't have much to share. He was an only child that moved out of his small town the second he could, struggling to make ends meet until he bumped into a friendly poker player that gave him a nudge in the right direction. He worked at a pizza joint down the road for a few hours every afternoon but didn't do delivery anymore since he'd broken an arm riding his motorbike through the narrow streets. Ironically enough, he didn't live far from David's own apartments.

"So," David started one night as he helped Dwight shove a table out of the way, "Got anyone waitin' for ya at 'ome?"

Dwight snorted out a laugh as he crouched down to wipe up the worst of the beer-drenched popcorn. "No, you?"

A hopeful smile twitched across the taller man's features, "Nah, nothin' but the ol' bed and breakfast."

-:-

One night, David flinched as he moved the chairs. Dwight, who was nearby wiping down tables, paused when he heard the man grunt. "You alright?" He ventured, voice tapering off into silence as David turned his back towards him.

"Just peachy," The answer was short and swift and clearly a lie.

Tossing the rag onto the table, Dwight crept closer and placed a gentle hand on David's left arm. "Lemme see. There's a med kit under the bartop," He explained before pulling the man around and gasping when he saw the bloodied bandages poorly wrapped around the other man's tattoed arm. "What happened?!" He demanded loudly while dragging David towards the bar.

"Some guy pulled a knife durin' the fight... real pissy 'bout me winnin' -"

"I thought it was fight club - not kill club!" Dwight snapped back before shoving David towards one of the cushioned stools. "Sit." He ordered without much thought before he marched behind the counter and dug around.

David plopped himself down heavily, propping his heels against the stool and semi-folding his legs as he got comfortable. Gingerly, he peeled the bandages off his forearm and hissed at the sight. "Not as bad as it could'a been," He nodded in approval, setting the ruined materials on his knee.

A quick breath was sucked between Dwight's teeth when he saw the wound. "Jesus, David. You should've said something!" Slamming the medical kit onto the top, he rummaged around a bit before he found alcohol wipes and proper gauze. "You'll need to see a doctor -"

"Nah, not deep 'nough -"

"David -"

"I know what I'm doin', alright?" He huffed, clenching his jaw quickly as Dwight wiped down the wound, cleaning it and disinfecting it slowly. A burn crawled under his skin, but he ignored it in favor of instead focusing on Dwight's face. He looked so focused, and up close, David could see a small scar hidden in the other's hairline and see just how bright those amber colored eyes were.

His heart did a flip and he blinked, leaning back with a grunt as Dwight carefully laid down a few gauze pads. "Please, be more careful," The bartender managed, raising a brow at David. "If you're gone, who's gonna keep me company and sing to Abba while cleaning floors?"

A hearty chuckle escaped the scrapper, "I don't sing -"

"Oh, I've heard you humming."

-:-

The fight had gone sour quickly. It was the same man from before with the knife, Evan, and David should've known that he was going to try something harmful again this round. Evan had always been a sore loser.

The men had been cheering, forming their usual circle around the duo as they threw punches and jabs at each other while dancing across the old, blood-stained cement floors. David moved quickly on his feet in short, choppy movements, his arms at the ready and fists bloodied.

Evan wiped the blood from his nose and growled, "Fuckin' asshole... you think you're better than me?"

David grinned with a cocky shrug, "Oi, I know I am."

-:-

Dwight’s head shot up as a loud, agonized shout echoed from the basement. The area immediately hushed for a few precious seconds before it erupted into a series of shouting and cursing. His gut flipped in horror as the shouting turned to screaming from several people, unintelligible words blurring together as he crouched down and grabbed the medical kit before sprinting down the steps.

He briefly saw Ace waving a hand frantically towards his direction, clearly trying to sway his path - but the bartender was driven by panic and worry. David was fighting tonight -- he even bet a few dollars on him winning, just to stroke the other man’s ego just a tad.

He’d never been down in the basement - even after all this time - he’d been herded away from it. As he took the steps down quickly, he understood why. The place was messy, bloodied and dusty with old meat hooks hanging threatening from the darkness in the corners. For a moment, everything slowed down.

Several people were wrestling with a large man on the ground and a bloodied knife lay just out of his desperate reach. A few more were standing around, confused - almost in shock. Most importantly, a puddle of blood was spreading from between the other crowd of bodies, and Dwight’s heart nearly leaped out of his throat in a pile of his own anxious vomit when he saw who was laying in the middle, looking pale and confused.

David King.

He shoved forwards and dropped the medical kit near them, heaving for breath and swallowing down the need to wretch at the sight. “David,” Dwight croaked, looking at the other men with wide eyes and shaking hands.

Blood - at this level - was something he’d never seen. He wanted to run but the stress of the situation kept him rooted to the spot.

They glanced at him before they began to tear open the medical supplies, pressing hands to a bloody, deep slice in David’s side. He looked terribly out of it, head lolling and moans of pain bubbling out of him. For a moment, he sucked in a deep breath and tried to shove their hands away, “‘m fuckin’ fine, get yer ‘ands offa me,” He slurred, hardly understandable as his eyes fluttered.

At a loss, the bartender sat next to his side and carefully pulled his head into his lap, keeping his neck at a steady angle as David wheezed and coughed, his dark eyes scanning about before they slipped closed. Dwight felt like he was drowning, staring blankly into space while the others already on their phones explained their situation. For a terrible moment, the man realized that they weren’t calling an ambulance.

He gulped and shook his head, only looking up as he felt somebody glaring at him. There, restrained on the ground, was Evan. His bloodied teeth were clenched and his bright eyes were wild, crazed and filled with bloodlust.

-:-

Dwight was glad that the bar was closed for two days following the incident. David had been collected and sent to the private doctor, and since then, the bartender hadn’t heard anything useful about his condition. Instead, he spent his time pacing his simple flat and counting his tips, wondering if he had enough to quit.

He kept his door locked and a flimsy kitchen knife by his bedside table. He couldn’t stop having nightmares about all the blood and Evan’s eyes, glaring into his own with such an intensity that it still sent shivers down his spine.

While he sat eating cereal by the television, watching closely as the news rolled lazily across the screen, his phone gave a happy chime. Nearly jumping out of his skin, the man looked towards his cell and swallowed a deep mouthful of the rice-based squares. He reached over and dragged it closer to him, opening it up with a simple press of his thumb and reading over the message with an ample amount of unease.

However, once the words registered in his mind, Dwight’s chest expanded with relief and he sagged slowly into the couch.

[ **Gambling Idiot** : Hey, kid. Heard what happened. Talk about a shit show but don’t worry - I snooped around for you. Found out that Evan is doing a short stint in a jail cell and that David is gonna be checking out in a day or two. Looked worse than it was. Nobody is pressing charges, don’t want the fight club to stop. Dunno which cop they bribed, but it worked.]

On one hand - David was going to be okay. The man had looked like he was going to die and it had left a terror lurking deep in Dwight’s chest, wound so tight that he thought that his heart might split into gory pieces. On the other hand - Evan was going to get out. The man looked like he wanted to kill David - and Dwight had felt the fury radiating from his rage, a promise and a bloodlust all wrapped up in one.

He shivered again and hunkered down deeper into his old delivery hoodie, debating over what he should say to Ace. The man was a reckless idiot, but had a heart and a sliver of thought dedicated towards his - admittedly few - friends. All in all, despite his flaws, Dwight couldn’t ignore the fact that Ace’s luck came in handy. Sometimes.

-:-

It’s been slightly over a week since Dwight had seen or heard David. The bar was a lot more lonely and quiet, especially so after hours. Every night he made sure to lock the door and clean up quickly with the radio turned down softly. It was too unnerving to have it off and he was too anxious to have it up loud, just in case he needed to hear something.

As he swept up a mess of crushed pretzels from the ground, Dwight paused when there was a gentle rapping against the bar door. He froze, terrified at the thought that it was Evan. He didn’t move from his spot, broom clutched between his palms and eyes tightly closed.

Logically, Dwight knew that he should turn around and see who it is.

But the fear of finding Evan standing there, blade in hand and a twisted smile on his lips kept Dwight rooted as if he’d stepped in a trap.

A few tense, quiet seconds passed by, feeling like years. Finally, there was another knock and a muffled voice called out to him, “Oi, Dwight. Are ya a‘right?”

All at once, relief washed over him. He about dropped to his knees at the sound, his heart doing flips inside his chest with excitement. Dwight turned around quickly and couldn’t contain his smile when he saw David standing there in a dark hoodie and a familiar ball cap. “David!” He greeted while he crossed the bar to flick the lock open and pull the taller man into the safety of the bar, away from the chill of the night. “You shouldn’t be here -”

“Doc said I was right as rain,” The fighter smirked at him and lifted the bottom of his hoodie and dark shirt to show off the bandaging around his middle. “See?”

Dwight’s eyes got wide at the sight and he sucked in a quick breath. “That’s not -- you got stabbed! You need bed rest -”

“I wanted to see ya,” David says then, quickly and almost too quietly. Dwight’s thoughts stutter to a halt as warmth spread into his chest and across his pale cheeks. The other man swallows and takes a step back, “I - to 'elp ya with the cleanup, yeah?”

The bartender stepped back and he nodded, only reaching around David to lock the door once more. For a long moment, silence hung in the air, unspoken worries and mixed emotions nipping at them both.

Dwight lamely motioned to the area, half-cleaned and mainly swept. “I don’t have a lot left… Could you wipe down the bar while I finish sweeping?”

Despite knowing that he was being given an easy task, out of worry for his wound, David picked up a rag and did the job dutifully. A few alcohol spills wiped up easily with the cleaner and the bartop was soon back to its usual gloomy glory. The music kept softly playing in the background as Dwight swept up the stray popcorn, both of them lingering about quietly.

Finally, David coughed casually and started, “'eard ya went down there.”

The broom paused and he heard Dwight give a sigh. David glanced up at him, his dark eyes softened in worry. With his back still turned towards the fighter, Dwight managed to keep the anxious flush of his features at bay. His throat felt tight with the mere mention of those horrific memories and he struggled to breathe past it.

“I… I thought you were going to die,” Dwight admitted in a voice so quiet, he almost didn’t hear himself speak. The floor blurred slightly as he swallowed down the ball of sorrow in his throat, blinking the unshed tears from his eyes rapidly.

A touch, hesitant at first, but growing in confidence, landed atop his shoulder. David’s body was behind him, standing worriedly. For a moment, Dwight took pleasure in the simple back and forth swipe of David’s thumb against the back of his neck. The fighter stepped forwards, tentatively wrapping an arm around Dwight’s middle to pull him closer, resting against his warmth.

Dwight didn’t fight him but did lower his head, staring at the ground. He let David sway him, relaxing into it despite feeling surprised.

Finally, David breathed out a whisper, “Ya know ’m not gonna die so easily, yeah?”

Dwight wanted to believe that. But after all that blood - all that pain…

He pulled away slightly and turned, putting a hand on David’s shoulders to steady himself. “And what if you do? What then?”

The fighter’s hands lowered cautiously down to Dwight’s hips, looking at him with a slight frown. “‘ey - Dwight - listen,” He shook his head, his hands gripping the other’s hips tighter, thumbing along his belt. “I…”

Dwight stared at him, half torn between hope and despair. His heart did a flip in his chest, urging him to do something - anything - anything but just stand there like a deer in the headlights. Almost as if on autopilot, his hands reached out and firmly grabbed onto the edges of the hoodie before he yanked David lower and closer. The scrapper went easily, a smile playing across his features despite the surprise that flickered in his gaze.

“I’ve been waitin’ on that for a while, mate,” David husked, pulling Dwight half a step closer, their chests brushing together comfortably.

Unwilling to let the other man wisecrack anything else, Dwight pressed their lips together with a need in his chest, warm and deep. David responded quickly, kissing him with a hand clutched to the small of Dwight’s back, aching for the touch.

David’s lips were slightly chapped and tasted like fluoride but Dwight smiled into it. He wanted it to go on forever, but he forced himself to rein it in. Pulling away slowly with his thumb brushing the other’s stubbled cheek, and he wondered when his hand had drifted up to frame David’s jaw while he memorized the look of the tiny scars over David’s nose. Dwight tenderly thumbed at a healing bruise across the other’s cheekbone, yellowed almost into obscurity, a small haunt from the fight that had almost claimed him. The bartender bowed his head and leaned closer, resting his forehead onto David’s shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again…”

“What? Don’t ever kiss ya again?” David asked with a shit-eating grin, and he smugly chuckled as the smaller man poked at his arm roughly. “Be careful there, ‘otshot,” His voice softened as Dwight pressed closer, eyes hidden into his sweater. “Ya a'right?”

With his glasses slightly crooked and his throat tight, Dwight shook his head quickly, his hands quivering as he pressed them against the bandages he could feel through David’s loose sweater. He couldn’t believe that he had kissed him - the man who seemed to enjoy taunting with the reaper and sparring - quite _literally_ \- with death. His fingers brushed into the edges of the bandages again and he wondered if the wound would scar, a permanent reminder of that day that David kissed death.

The scrapped looked down at him with thinning lips, guiltily laying his hands over Dwight’s own softly. “Listen to me,” He said softly, bending slightly so their foreheads could touch as the bartender looked up at him in return. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. a'right?”

Dwight nodded, his eyes slipping closed as David wrapped both arms around him and pulled him towards his chest in a tight, warm embrace. He returned the hug tightly, arms locked around David’s large chest and hands gripping desperately into the softness of the hoodie. They rocked together then, tucked into their own little world.

Despite being so close to David’s warmth, Dwight could feel a particular sense of unease creeping into him. Slowly, he lifted his face from David’s shoulder and stared past him, towards the door.

There, if only for a moment, somebody moved, walking away from the establishment.

He squeezed David closer and tried to ignore the protective and terrified emotions warring inside of his chest.

-:-

Six months later and Dwight had almost forgotten about the incident. He was pouring a few drinks when David came sauntering up the bar, dressed in all black and a baseball cap pulled low over his head, casting his dark eyes in deep shadows. He leaned onto the counter and grinned knowingly at the bartender. “‘ello, gorgeous. Come ‘ere often?”

“Only every day,” Dwight chuckled, taking a step to eye David up and down. “You look good. Anything special tonight?” As he spoke, he was already reaching for a clean glass to pour David’s beer into.

The scrapper took the glass with a smile and a wink, taking a hearty sip before he gave the countertop two solid taps with his knuckles. “It’s a big night, luv. Got a ‘efty sum I could win and we could blow that old scummy apartment, travel the world -”

Dwight felt his breath catch in the back of his throat at the thought of David hopping back in the ring. Of course, he knew that he’d never keep the fighter from it forever, but the emotional trauma was still fresh in his mind. They’d been doing fine on tips and David’s day job, but recently the fighter had been itching to escape.

“David --”

“Shh, shhh,” David reached over and placed hand on Dwight’s arm. “It’ll be a'right. I promise,” He squeezed softly and lowered his voice, “We 'eed to get outta this town.”

Dwight forced himself to breathe while giving a jerky nod in agreement. Ace had left a month prior, something about a gambling debt and a bad run-in with a couple of ‘collectors.’ As he watched David take another drink, he pushed his glasses further up his nose and turned to smile as a new customer walked up the bar. David and him exchanged one last look, worry countered by a confident smirk.

He tried to keep his thoughts busy by making numerous drinks and observing the current crowd. There were a variety of new faces for tonight's big money fight and the usual regulars. Dwight smiled as he served everyone and collected tips happily in a simple jar that he kept behind the bar. The fight hadn’t even started yet and he was still pulling a hefty amount of tips to sweeten the deal that came with David’s anxiety-inducing fighting habits.

As he was mixing up a new drink and chatting comfortably with a man who was - frankly - too flirtatious for his own good, Dwight’s thoughts and worries smacked him full force as Evan walked into the bar. He was a looming presence with bright, wild eyes and a dead expression. Dwight nearly fumbled the drink all over the ground but he recovered quickly and dumped it into the glass with trembling fingertips.

He couldn’t even remember collecting the tip, so fixated on Evan’s movements. Instantly, he knew that David would be fighting this monster for the money. And he could still remember the blood, the pain...

His heart beat harder in his chest and that same protective urge stirred inside of him like a caged beast, prowling the edges of his consciousness.

Their eyes met and Dwight found that he couldn’t pull his gaze away. Evan looked at him like he was a stray dog that he wanted to kick or starve and kill. It made goosebumps break out across his skin and the hair stands up on the back of his neck. He took a step back and then quickly grabbed his keys and unlocked the closet that was tucked into the furthest edge behind the bar.

He hurried into the small space and closed the door firmly behind him before leaning back against it. Dwight breathed in and out slowly to calm his wild heart rate, clutching a hand towards his lips and nervously biting at his fingernails.

He had to do something.

Evan was going to kill David this time, he knew it… he could _feel_ it looming over them, a bad storm on the horizon.

Scanning about the closet, David tried to think of something he could do as he stood there, his anxiety creeping up and choking him tightly. He pulled his hand quickly away from his mouth and forced himself to stand straighter and begin searching the place with earnest.

Poisoning him from cleaner would be too obvious…

He pushed the bleach aside and dug through his supplies with trembling hands. Finally, he wrist brushed something damp and cold. Dwight jumped slightly and paused to look closer, his nose scrunching up with disgust as he found an old, half-decayed cardboard box. It was tiny, and clearly contained some sort of produce. Most of the label had been rubbed off, but he could still make out two big, bold words.

Rat poison.

His heart lurched into his throat as he held it. Years ago, he’d remembered that there was a law that had been passed, forcing all new products of rat poison to be in sealed, ready to place traps. This stuff was old and potent.

Dwight slowly peeled open a flap and almost gagged, but he saw that they were indeed in a pill form. Holding his breath, he reached for a few before he paused.

What the _hell_ was he thinking? Was he really going to poison Evan?

As he stood there, debating it all, he found himself thinking back on how pale and afraid David had looked after he’d been stabbed. How that wound looked now, a fresh, pink scar in the shape of a jagged crescent, torn right into David’s abdomen.

He remembers tracing it this morning when he’d greeted David in their kitchen, still hobbling around in his sleep clothes while the scrapper had been making their coffee. Dwight had hugged him from behind, pressing his face into the back of his toned shoulder and enjoying the warmth that radiated from David’s bare skin. The scar was always raised, standing out brutally against his body. David had other scars, minor ones that littered his knuckles and arms and a few on his back, but nothing compared to that stab wound. Dwight isn’t even sure how David survived so easily while being tended to by some underground doctor… clearly, he’d been extremely lucky…

Dwight closed his hand around some pellets, narrowing his eyes with reinspired confidence.

Evan was not going to take David from him. Not now, not ever.

He carefully funneled the pills into his sleeve and made sure to clean his hands off well before he exited with a new, fresh rag in tow. Dwight smiled at a few of the customers and apologized for the wait before he began making drinks anew, acutely aware of the pellets that rubbed against his skin with every movement. He could feel them breaking apart into smaller pieces and his skin crawled at the sensation.

Biding his time, Dwight watched the clock tick by while he served everyone and collected tips. Finally, Evan came prowling up the bar with money in hand and his features carefully blank. It was always unnerving seeing Evan up close. He was scarred up from numerous fights and had very little expression while he ordered his usual, a tom collins.

Grabbing the glass, Dwight turned his back and easily began preparing the drink. He could feel Evan’s eyes on his body like two hot iron pokers and he wondered how in the hell he was going to slip the pellets into the liquid without getting caught.

However, some of Ace’s trademark luck must’ve rubbed off on him because another man came up to Evan with a laugh and a harsh slap on his back.

“There you are! We fight in an hour… gotta tell you, kid, I’ve got my money on you! So you better not disappoint, alright?”

Dwight rose a brow as he waited for Evan to respond, and finally, the man turned to look at the older fellow with a curled lip. He towered over the poor man but his voice was crackly and rough, “You know I’ll win.”

“You _better_ ,” The man countered, and his voice was far too serious for Dwight’s liking. While Evan’s back was turned, he dumped the crushed pellets from his sleeve into the drink and quickly added the mixing flavor before shaking it up in the mixer harshly. Then he transferred it into the glass and quickly checked for any evidence of the poison.

There was none as if the broken pellets had easily dissolved into the froth and the ice. Dwight’s heart was pounding as he set it in front of Evan. Slowly, the larger man took the drink and passed him the bare minimum of bills to cover it without a word.

As he walked away, speaking in hushed toned with the older man, he drank it heartily. Dwight made sure to wash the mixer he’d used thoroughly as his eyes subtly tracked Evan’s movements around the bar. Soon enough, half the drink was gone, then the whole thing eventually slipped down Evan’s unknowing gullet.

-:-

David stood there, shirtless and ready, pacing about the old, bloodstained ring. It felt good, felt like coming home. In front of him stood Evan, large and flexing, both of them stretching out the stress while the crowd cheered.

He rolled his shoulders and squared up to Evan, readying himself to throw the first punch and get this party started.

-:-

Dwight listened closely to the grunts of pain and the crowd cheering. He sat by the stairs, too scared to see them fight, but he kept the medical kit by his feet, just in case. Nervously running a hand through his hair, he counted each scream and shout that echoed from up the staircase. He could already picture David throwing a punch and hitting Evan right between the eyes, breaking his nose in a shower of blood and a triumphant laugh. But he could also picture Evan pulling a blade and sinking it right into David’s throat, the spray of blood painting across his face and highlighting his unforgiving, hungry gaze.

A gasp left him, brutal and loud and he curled into himself, rocking back and forth on the stool as he waited for any change in the atmosphere.

David was going to be fine, he told himself. David had to be fine… he’d made sure of it. Right?

-:-

Contrary to popular belief, landing a solid hit in the face was not easy. Most fighters cherished their features and knew that a broken nose could disorient them enough to lose the fight. As such, they fought with their arms close to their features, jabbing out for sneaky body shots - but mainly taking turns blocking.

Evan was no different. David and him danced across the circle, exchanging punches and taunts as they did so. However, after one round of jabs, David noticed that Evan was beginning to slow when he was moving his arms up to protect his face. He looked winded already. It was odd, especially since the fight had just begun, but he wasn’t going to turn down that window of opportunity.

As the fight dragged on, David readied a fist and threw it squarely at Evan’s nose, opening himself up to a brutal gut punch that stole his breath away but was worth it. Evan wasn’t quick enough to protect his face and David crushed his nose with his wrapped, strong knuckles.

The crowd exploded into a mixture of cheers and calls of foul, but the fight continued. Blood dripped to the ground at their feet as Evan’s nose gushed freely and the man let out a grunt, stepping back as David followed up with a jab to his side, gaining some space.

David shook his hand out with a laugh and slowly formed a fist again while Evan wiped the blood from his nose. “What’s the matter, mate? Feelin’ groggy today are we?”

“Fuck off, David,” Evan snarled in return, quickly advancing with arms ready. They clashed together like wild animals, throwing punches and elbows like a couple of caged dogs. But Evan was slower than normal, giving David many opportunities.

Fired up for revenge from their last fight, David slammed an open palm into Evan’s ear to disorient him and then pulled his shoulders down, shoving his kneecap into the other's chest and making him drop to a crouch. The spectators were frothing at the mouth and David was laughing as he watched Evan sit there, dripping blood and wheezing.

However, the laughter stopped as Evan yanked a long, thin blade from the cuff of his boots. He lunged and David lifted an arm, taking the hit in the meat of his bicep. He howled at that, cursing him and calling him a cheater before he slammed his fist back into Evan’s face.

His nose gave a sickening crunch upon impact and Evan stumbled back with blood raining down his lips and chin. David kicked out and sent him sprawling to the floor, knife still in hand.

The crowd had mixed reactions of frenzied cheering and panicked shouting.

David stood there with a hand clamped to the wound on his arm, blood freely dribbling from between his clenched fingers. From the sea of surrounding bodies, Dwight’s form popped up as he shoved his way through, the red medkit in hand.

Evan still laid there, eyes half-lidded and features bloodied, but the looming threat of attack still lingered, his hands clutched along the handle of the blade. David stepped forward and grabbed Dwight protectively by the vest and pulled him behind his own form as the bartender entered the ring.

“Get the fuckin’ thing offa ‘im!” David ordered, pointing accusingly at the blade as he stood in front of Dwight fiercely.

Quickly, a few men jumped out of the circle and pounced onto Evan, pulling the blade away and keeping him pinned. However, it was clear that David had knocked his opponent cleanly out.

He’d won this time.

Slowly, the crowd backed up and David was pushed towards a table and a few chairs in the corner of the room. An older woman was moving there as well, her gray hair pulled into a tight bun and a white lab coat tucked across her body.

Dwight looked at the blood dripping across David’s arm and gasped, but the scrapper only shushed him and urged him to take a seat beside him. “Just a scratch, luv, 'othin’ to worry ‘bout -”

“You’re bleeding!” Dwight countered, voice pitched with stress, but he sat close to David’s other side as the man showed his arm to the woman. She looked between the two of them with a raised brow and a knowing smirk.

“Hello again, David. Didn’t I prescribe that you _stay away_ from blades and fights the last time I patched you up?” She teased as she began to slowly wipe away the excess blood so she could see the slice better. It wasn’t as bad as all the blood had made Dwight believe, but the sight of the raw flesh still made his belly roll. He found himself squeezing David’s other hand and was comforted immensely when the fighter returned the gesture.

A chuckle escaped David and he bowed his head, chastised. “That ya did, doc… but ya know how it is… money and fightin’ go hand in hand these days.”

“Maybe so,” She hummed while she poured some disinfectant onto the wound, tutting as David hissed through clenched teeth. “But your luck is going to run out sooner or later. How’d the side heal up?”

David huffed slowly and watched with lidded eyes as she began to thread a needle. “It scarred pretty clean… ya got a steady hand for this sorta stuff,” He flexed his fingers slowly as she leaned closer and wiped the wound clean once more with a cloth that was covered in some minor numbing agent to take the bite from the needle away.

Dwight could hardly believe that he was meeting the underground doctor that had saved David’s life. He felt himself smile and bow his head in relief, glad that she was here again to fix the mess David had gotten himself into once more. Giving his lover’s other hand a soft, comforting squeeze, Dwight looked at the doctor and whispered honestly, “...Thank you.”

She looked at him with a soft smile, “It’s no problem, darling.” As she began stitching up the slice, her weathered voice lowered into a whisper, “But after this, you should collect your winnings and leave.”

-:-

“But - David,” Dwight looked at him brows pinched in concern. “I have so much left to pack --”

“I got all your favorite clothes and the practical ones,” He said as he shut the back door of his beat-up car. “Even grabbed your knitted blanket and the old teddy,” David rounded the vehicle and pulled open the driver's side door after doing a quick scan of the street.

As he got settled, Dwight buckled in and turned towards him slightly. “Why are we in such a rush?”

“Did you deposit the checks and your tips into the bank?” David asked seriously as he turned the key over and pulled away from the street.

That uneasy feeling was back and Dwight slowly nodded. “Y-Yeah, a few days ago. Why?”

“We’re leaving, right now. I got our tickets just a little bit ago,” David glanced at him with a frown. “I’m sorry. I can’t risk it.”

“Risk what?” Dwight whispered, sinking into his seat as anxiety rises into his throat.

“Them coming after us,” David answered while tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, making his way carefully to the airport. He kept an eye in the rearview mirror, just in case. In the corner of his gaze, he could see Dwight starting to fidget with his hands and shift nervously in his seat. Slowly, he offered a hand to his boyfriend. “'ey. I’m not gonna let ‘em hurt ya.”

Dwight took his hand and squeezed it tightly before linking their fingers together. “Hurt me?”

As he made a turn onto the freeway, David set his jaw and explained, “Evan died the day after the fight,” He paused as Dwight gasped, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the other’s knuckles, “They finally got the test results from his blood back… said he was poisoned. With rodenticide.”

Dwight gulped and leaned back into the seat heavily, his eyes welling with tears as David continued.

“And there's only one place in the bar that 'ad that kinda stuff. The supply closet… and guess who 'ad the only set of keys?” The scrapper glanced at Dwight and frowned, “What in the ‘ell were ya thinkin’?”

The smaller man hiccuped a sob and wiped at his face with his free hand, sniffling back his cries. “I - I didn’t mean to - to kill him. I ju-just wanted him to - to -”

“Be easy for me to beat?”

“No!”

“Then what?” David snapped, his voice shushing as Dwight flinched. “What were ya doin, Dwight?”

“I...I didn’t want him to _k-kill_ you… I…” He wiped at his nose and tried to even his breathing by slowly exhaling, the warm tears slipping down his cheeks quickly. “When he st-stabbed you the first time… he had this look in his eyes… like - like he had unfinished business with you.”

David squeezed Dwight's hand tighter and slowly brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the bartender’s skin. “Oh, luv… ya didn’t 'ave to. But…” His lips moved across Dwight’s knuckles lovingly, “Thank ya.”

All he he got was a nod in return, Dwight wiping at his features silently as the ride continued.

-:-

David parked on the street and quickly got out before running to the back doors and pulling their luggage out. Dwight joined him, still looking miserable from his crying, but he was ready to help. The scrapper paused, looking at his boyfriend with a sigh.

Dwight shivered in the autumn air, his cheeks rosy and glasses askew from how often he’d been wiping at his eyes. “Luv,” David called, slipping out of his own jacket and then pulling it around Dwight carefully. “Wear this. Keep it safe for me, yeah?”

Briefly, the other man smiled and nodded, shoving his hands into the oversized garment excitedly. Then, he took his luggage and watched as David tossed the singular car key onto the seat and left the vehicle unlocked.

With passports in hand, David leads them to their airline counter and Dwight was shocked to see the destination highlights on the screen. “Milwaukee?”

“Yep. Grandparents got an old place they don’t use anymore… said I could 'ave it,” David shrugged while he handed over their passports and got their tickets printed out. “Ya ever been?”

“No, obviously,” Dwight said with a chuckle, taking his flight tickets as they were handed to him.

David grinned and gave him a tight squeeze around the shoulders, “Yer gonna love it, baby.”

-:-

Dwight woke up with a groan, shifting to stretch in the cramped space of their airplane seats and brushing up against David. The other man glanced up from the magazine he’d been boredly pursuing and smiled at the sight.

“Why ‘ello there, sleepin’ beauty,” David leaned over to place a kiss on the top of Dwight’s messy hair. “How’re ya feelin’?”

He snuggled up under David’s offered arm and pressed his cheek into the other’s chest, a hand sneaking up to rest comfortably over his lover’s heart. “Better… but still really… guilty.”

“Ya did what ya 'ad to do,” David whispered, tilting his head to press another kiss across Dwight’s furrowed brow. “It was an accident.”

“I know but… I didn’t think it would…” The unspoken ‘kill him’ hung between them and David squeezed him closer, holding him tight and safe pressed halfways against his chest.

For a while they stayed like that, tangled together desperately. Then David whispered, “It’s okay, Dwight. We’ll get away from all that… I promise. New city and a new start.”

Dwight nodded and sniffled, closing his eyes once more as he listened to David’s steady breathing.

-:-

“Were your grandparents rich or something?” Dwight asked in awe as they stepped into the large house, set a fair amount away from the city and sporting a grand backyard. It was two stories with a decently modern interior, despite all the dust that blanketed the counters. There were covers on all the furniture and he smiled as he walked around, opening the curtains and sneezing as dust drifted around him from the disturbance.

David chuckled as he set their luggage down in the kitchen. “Well, yeah, they _kinda_ are rich,” He admitted while he walked over to a thermostat on the wall and turned up the air-filtering. Another pair of switches turned on the two overhead fans, their blades made out of richly colored wood.

He then slowly made sure the doors were locked and tapped the security system online, before making his way over to Dwight. “How do ya like the view?” He asked as he stood comfortably behind the other man, hands on his hips.

“It’s charming, really. And all the restaurants… we have to go out and try them all,” Dwight smiled, turning his head to catch David’s lips in a soft kiss. His boyfriend indulged him readily, melting into the kiss happily, greedy for the attention after hours of on and off sleeping in uncomfortable airports and planes.

David slowly turned Dwight around and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss hungrily. “I know a couple of things I could eat right now,” He growled playfully, mouthing his mouth down Dwight’s neck to leave a line of reddened nips there.

“Oh!” Dwight clutched his shoulders and giggled, his hands gripping tightly. “David… we should probably go to the - ah!”

He laughed as David picked him up, hands braced under the bartender’s ass and lips smothering across his cheek. Dwight locked his ankles around the larger man’s hips and adjusted his hold on his shoulder to better support his weight, using one hand to lead David into a deeper kiss as the man carried him down a hallway. They took a sharp left and David grunted, feeling for a light switch before he kicked the door closed behind them.

Thankfully, there was a cover on the bed as well. David gripped the edge of it and slowly slid it off to avoid flooding the room with dust. Once it was puddled on the floor, he dropped Dwight onto the mattress with a laugh and began to undo the buttons of his own shirt, exposing his bare chest.

Dwight watched with a smirk, spreading his knees so David had plenty of room to lay between them. Soon enough, the other’s shirt fell to the floor and David was leaning down to press hungry kisses down Dwight’s body, fingers fumbling to undo the buttons of the other’s dress shirt, pressing his lips lovingly onto every exposed piece of skin.

Dwight helped him where he could, breathlessly gasping as David sunk his teeth into his neck, leaving a possessive hickey blooming freshly against his skin. “Oh, god, _David_ ,” He moaned, his fingers digging softly into the back of David’s neck, pressing him closer to encourage another mark.

David took the hint with a rumble of delight and another careful press of his lips and teeth.

-:-

Dwight woke up late in the morning, curled up in the new bed with the covers tucked around him and their clothes from last night puddled on the floor. With a yawn he sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes as he looked around the room. Their luggage was by the entrance, and the sound of the shower was running from across the hall.

He groggily pushed the covers off of him and slowly got to his feet, stretching his back out with a whine and then making his way carefully to the bathroom. He squinted without his glasses, but he managed to find the door and give it a knock.

“David?”

“Yeah, luv?” He called from the other side, voice raised over the sound of the running water. “Come on in!”

Dwight turned the knob and blinked at the condensation and the heat of the bathroom. It was a lot larger than he was expecting, with two sinks and a sizable counter. The shower was combined with a deep tub and had a lovely, deep red curtain wrapped around it. He carefully shuffled closer and stuck his hand into the shower, smiling as David took it and pulled him closer.

“Is this 'ow ya ask to share the shower?” David teased while opening up the curtain and releasing a billow of steam. When Dwight merely nodded, he helped guide the man into the warm water and chuckled as the once wild bed head was quickly tamed into a wet plaster.

Pushing his hair out of his eyes, Dwight squinted up at David and grinned before they shared a quick kiss. “When did you wake up?” He asked, noticing that there was already new soap and hair product in the shower, the kind that they regularly used. “You’ve been busy.”

“Woke up around seven… figured I’d make myself useful, ya know?” David shrugged and watched as Dwight started to wash his hair, grinning at the sight. “I got us some ‘asy make hash browns, eggs and toast for breakfast. Start simple. Finish unpacking and checkin’ the place out.” He paused, teasingly giving Dwight’s ass a pinch, “'ave sex in every room…”

“David!” Dwight swatted at him with a laugh, “Not all in _one_ day.”

“Alright then, we’ll set a goal -”

“David, that’s ridiculous,” The bartender laughed, wriggling as David pulled him into a hug under the water stream. The soap washed from his shoulders and he sighed at the feeling of warm water on his sensitive, marked throat. For a while they merely stood there, enjoying the warmth of the shower and the steam.

Then, Dwight turned his head to brush his lips against David’s still wounded arm. The stitches were beginning to fall away, revealing a new scar that always pulled at Dwight’s heart.

The past made him suck in a deep breath and he quickly asked, “What do we do now, David?”

As he pressed a kiss to the back of his boyfriend’s neck, the scrapper merely whispered, “We move on. The both of us, together. New jobs. New routines. New start.”

Dwight nodded, leaning into David subtly and linking their fingers together. “You promise to be more careful?”

“I pinky swear it,” David announced while tucking his pinky up and under Dwight’s own. “We got everythin’ settled. Money, a house… no need to go riskin’ myself like that. Makin’ ya worry…” He kissed Dwight’s skin again, squeezing him close with a final promise, “I’m not gonna let any more fightin’ get in the way of this. A'right?”

“Good,” Dwight turned himself around slowly as David loosened his grip, draping his arms across the larger man’s shoulders and pulling him into a soft kiss. “Because I’ll be here for you, always. And I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore...”

“Then it's a deal,” David smiled into the kiss and only paused to counter, “But ya gotta admit… I look sexy with scars and a crooked nose.”

Dwight let out a burst of laughter and lightly jabbed David in the belly. The two of them giggling briefly until Dwight found his fingers lingering around the stab scar, his brow furrowing and joy fading. Seeming to notice his distress, David took his hand and linked their fingers together again, looking into Dwight's eyes with a gentle smile. “'ey. Me and you. Pinky promise?”

With a nod and a returning squeeze of his pinky, Dwight smiled. “Pinky promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it. I apologize if it felt a little rushed in terms of the timeline, but I just wanted them to be cute and happy and get the best ending possible.... <3 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed!!


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